


Yesterday

by Miratete



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amputation, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Forced Orgasm, Gang Rape, M/M, Master/Servant, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Sexual Violence, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-30 19:18:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13958265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miratete/pseuds/Miratete
Summary: The war ended badly for the Decepticons. The lucky ones died. Those that survived found themselves imprisoned, enslaved, or facing execution. And it is in this setting that the prideful Starscream is finally broken by the most fearsome of all Autobots: a wiry old warrior named Kup.





	Yesterday

-o-o-o-o-o-

Kup looked down upon the seeker kneeling just beyond the doorway, the former Prince of Vos awaiting his return. Behind him upon the table was a cube of energon. “Well. Now this is a pleasant surprise,” the old mech remarked.

The seeker did not look up, but kept his face downcast. “Thank you, sir.” If he still had his wings they would have been drooping to the floor.

“I see that you've finally learned your place.”

“Yessir.”

“It looks pretty good in here.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Kup shut the door, set down his work bag, and moved to the table. He looked about before sitting. The apartment was in order—everything tidied up and dusted and set just so. Being a housemaid really was a waste of Starscream's talent, but what else was Kup going to do with the seeker? His rank meant nothing in the new order. The royal houses had all been disbanded. The fact that he had been Megatron's right hand mech through most of the war meant nothing either. Taking the cube, Kup sat and put his feet up on a footstool. “Anything happen today?”

“Nothing, sir,” responded the seeker.

“Good. That's the way the Peace should be. Peaceful. I fought long enough that I deserve days in which nothing happens.” He drank.

“Of course, sir.”

Kup stared at the wingless seeker, now on his knees with a damp cloth, busily wiping down his keeper's feet before moving on to the wheel-wells. He really had broken Starscream's spirit. Neither Optimus nor Rodimus nor Magnus could do it. But the old soldier had. Starscream had been a whimpering, sniveling wreck last night, the likes of which no one would ever have believed that the pride of Vos could be reduced to.

“Starscream?”

“Sir?”

“I'm going to retire early. But it was extremely dusty at work today. I'm going to need more than just a wiping down. Go warm up the washroom, would you?”

“Of course, sir.”

The seeker rose and moved with near silence down the hallway. Soon the sound of the heater and the jetting showerheads followed.

Kup threw back the last of the energon in the cube before following after his servant. And in the washrack he stepped right into the flow. “Bathe me,” was the simple command.

The grey mech stood there as the seeker washed him. Admittedly this was the most luxurious thing in his life—hot water and someone to scrub his frame. They'd always said that seekers had a thing for cleanliness, but he'd never expected it to be this good. The mech scrubbed carefully and thoughtfully and with wonderful balance between thorough and pleasurable. And when Kup decided that he was clean enough, he stepped from the shower and stood there while Starscream dried him off. When the first towel became too damp, he hung it up and fetched a second one to continue with. And Kup loved every moment. The seeker's touch was almost as good as a massage. By the time they were done, he was wonderfully warm and clean and tingling. “Starscream, you did a fine job,” Kup praised.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Now go warm my berth up. It does my old circuits good, you know.”

“Of course, sir.” Starscream hung up the towel he'd been working over himself—the second one he'd used on his master—and moved off to the bedroom.

When Kup eventually followed, it was as expected. Starscream was there in his berth, the thermal cover pulled over him, the thick pad beneath him warming with the heat of his frame. And on seeing his caretaker enter, he immediately hopped out and straightened the covers. “It's ready for you, sir,” he said, casting his optics to the floor again.

“Thank you, Starscream. Now go make sure the apartment is secure for the night, and then return here.”

“Return, sir?”

Kup smirked. Normally he retired well after Kup had fallen asleep, tucking down on the pallet stored beneath the couch in the main room. Ever since Kup had brought him home in shackles and manacles, he'd slept upon it. “Yes. Return.”

“Yessir,” was the unsteady reply.

“Thank you, Starscream.”

Kup climbed into the berth as the mech went out to close the shutters and lock the door. The morning storms that so often rolled into Iacon were not to be underestimated. The previous day's storm had been of his own doing, though. And boy could Kup rage when the opportunity called for it.

Starscream returned and stood in the doorway looking awkward. “Starscream, close the door and then come get in bed with me.”

“Sir?”

“Come sleep up here tonight. With me.”

“With you?” Red optics, both still cracked from the previous day, opened wide. His feet moved back toward the door.

“You've been a good mech today. You've earned it.”

“Sir, I... I don't deserve it.”

Kup felt the tension at the edge of Starscream's EM field—tension and fear but for once no anger. “You do deserve it. Come up here where it's warm.”

“Yessir.” He timidly moved forward.

Kup grinned at the seeker now standing apprehensively beside the large berth. “Well? Come on. Get in,” ordered the old mech, noting the seeker's hesitation. “Not like you haven't been in here before. Pit, you were just in here a breem ago.”

Nervously Starscream climbed in. He lay at the very edge of the berth's pad and tightly wrapped his arms around himself.

“There. Now isn't that better? These rooms are cold at night,” Kup said gently.

“Yessir.” He knew that all too well, sleeping alone on the pallet in the apartment's main room.

Kup sat up slightly and pushed a pillow beneath the seeker's head. Starscream's field jangled hard when Kup dimmed the berthroom lights to full darkness and then reached out to touch the jet's face. Starscream said nothing as thin, deft fingers explored his faceplate, mapping it carefully.

“Starscream? How are you feeling?”

“Sir?”

“You don't seem yourself. Let me help you.”

Starscream physically jolted. “Sir, I... I...”

“It's all right, Starscream,” Kup said soothingly, but shuffled his body closer to the flyer's. A hand slipped to Starscream's shoulder. “All you have to do is lie here.” 

“Yessir,” was the timid answer.

“You're very sweet when you're good, you know,” the old mech continued softly.

Starscream whimpered as Kup slid right against him, pressing his frame tightly to his. And his fear, now all too evident in his EM field, was acknowledged. “It's all right. I'm not going to hurt you. We've been through that. That's in the past now.” The thin fingers resumed their stroking, this time exploring his torso, gently working over his cockpit and intakes, dipping into joints in ways that made him fearful at first and then relieved when the fingers did no more than gently rub and circle against what their tips found. And the more it went on, the more Starscream found his frame relaxing, the more he found himself trusting the old mech's touch. And when the hand moved up to caress his neck cabling, he found himself wanting to lean into the touch.

Oh but Starscream hated it. And he hated himself. The ancient mech knew exactly how to touch him. Somehow he knew where his stroking best pleasured his traumatized mind and frame. Kup was all too capable of causing both pleasure and pain. He knew his way so well through these moments of gentle adoration, but also through such stress and torture as he'd demonstrated all too well yesterday.

Yesterday.

Megatron, even at his worst, or best for that matter, was nothing compared to the wiry old mech when it came to emotional damage and humiliation. Vortex could have taken lessons from Kup regarding physical suffering. Just thinking about it was now making him shudder.

“It's all right, Star... No need to be afraid of me,” Kup whispered, obviously feeling the tremble.

Oh, but there were so many reasons to be afraid of the old soldier. Yesterday he'd been begging for death long before Kup had finished with him.

“Shhhh... relax. Just relax. You're thinking too much, Starscream,” continued the whispers of comfort.

Kup shifted, rolling Starscream onto his front and exposing the mounting stubs of his wings. And Starscream whimpered again as Kup climbed atop him and placed himself astride the seeker's hips. Hands slid up his back heading for the stubs.

“No... please. They still hurt,” he pleaded when the slender fingers found them.

Yesterday, there in that dungeon of torture and misery the Autobots so cleanly called a 'lockup,' Kup and some unknown medic had taken his wings, stripping them off and carting them away. And it hadn't been in a private room or a secluded place. It had been right there in front of all the other prisoners, the proud seeker chained tightly to the floor. While most of the captive Decepticons jeered and threw verbal jabs as the former Prince of Vos was surgically hobbled, those with natural flight modes did not. Instead the horror of what was happening set them to tears, some even wailed in fright.

And the amputation had only been the beginning.

Kup chuckled. “I'm going to make them feel a lot better. I'm going to make you feel a lot better.”

Starscream gave an anguished cry. “Please, sir... don't touch me there.”

A sudden thought rose. He wondered if he could fight Kup... if in this distracting lull he could throw off his keeper and make a break for it. But that would be foolish. They'd weakened him with restraining bolts and taken his strength. And Kup was not to be underestimated when it came to combat. His age was only a disguise that hid his surprising strength and skill and speed. And even if he did escape, where could he go? Where could he hide? He could no longer simply fly away. As he'd discovered before, he'd had more than one tracking device implanted into him. He'd have no chance of finding and removing them all before he was caught.

“Sir, please don't.”

“Trust me... I know what I'm doing,” was the calm answer.

Starscream cried out as unwanted fingers began to assault the exposed mechanics. But as the touches went on, he realized that while there was an initial sting to them, the sensation soon calmed into warmth and soothing brushes against the exposed cabling and circuitry. In time, his frame began to relax once more.

“There now. Isn't that better?”

Starscream bit back his pride. As much as he hated to admit it, the old mech was right. “Yessir.”

The soft ministrations continued, and then Kup rose. “Stay there,” he instructed. “I'll be right back.”

Starscream whimpered into the pillow, burying his face into it. This was wrong. Everything was wrong. Megatron's abuse had been predictable—expected. Kup danced back and forth between so many guises that he had no idea what was coming next.

Kup left the room but soon returned, resuming his perch atop Starscream's hips. And then came the sound of a small container being opened, and then of Kup rubbing his hands together. When the hands returned to Starscreams wing-mounts, the initial shock of the touch seared through him like the lash of an electron whip, and he squirmed and cried out, begging for the mech to stop. But almost as soon as the cries had left his vocalizer, the sensations had transformed into processor-melting pleasure. Kup again played his fingers through the exposed workings, massaging and smoothing and easing the ache that had plagued Starscream since the loss of his wings yesterday. “Sir? What is that you're rubbing me with?” he asked when his curiosity could no longer be contained. Even if nothing else was positive about this slavery, at least he'd take with him the knowledge of some magical substance that would give an ordinary mech the touch of Primus himself.

“Copper and niobium gel. Best thing out there for aches you can get. Helps the nanites, and just plain feels good.”

“It is good, sir.” He was amazed that he'd never heard of such a miracle salve.

And the massage went on. To his own shame, Starscream sighed in pleasure.

“I told you I'd make it feel good,” the grey mech said smugly.

“Yessir.”

Kup continued to fondle the wing-mounts, but his hands began to stray further from them, his touch exploring Starscream's back from edges of his hip fairings to the base of his helm. And that was when Starscream realized that his keeper's touch was building up a charge in his systems. Slowly but steadily Kup was stimulating his sensor-net, charging him up with a a clinging electrical current and an undeniable pleasure. His field dampers were doing nothing to stop it either.

“Please, sir. That's enough.”

“Enough? I've only just begun, Starscream. Just enjoy it,” chuckled the mech looming over him.

“I have enjoyed it. You have been very kind to do this for me. But I don't deserve any more than what you have given me.” Starscream winced. Their conversations, if you could call them that, were so stilted.

“Nonsense,” replied Kup. “When I was just a young mech, working out in Tollex, my supervisor would always do this for whoever had done the best that day. Sorta' a non-monetary reward. Gave us all a reason to get up every morning. And he would warm you up so nicely, you'd barely be able to pressurize your femoral struts the next morning.”

Kup paused in his touches and leaned in closely, whispering ominously into Starscream's audial. “And you did such a nice job here at the apartment today, I'm going to keep you warm all night.”

Another whimper escaped Starscream's vocalizer.

The touches continued, stroking boldly now over places off-limits to all but one's most intimate friends. Not that Kup had any reason to stop. Yesterday he'd crossed every line of social decency in his punishing of his rebellious slave. Starscream's whimpering became whining as the charge built ever closer to an overload. “Sir, please. Please stop...”

“Why?” Fingers suddenly pressed deeply into joints Starscream didn't even realize he had, and the sensation was intoxicating. He was torn. Part of him wanted to go back to the stiff little pallet in the main room to escape his master. The other part of him just wanted to lie in Kup's berth forever, the blissful eternal victim of what his keeper was doing to him physically.

“Because... because...”

“Am I hurting you?”

“No.”

Kup's fingers recklessly strayed to the seams where Starscream's thighs met his hip-fairings, and Starscream was embarrassingly surprised to feel his interface array heating rapidly. Worse though was the sudden sensation of his spike pushing to be freed. Kup too must have become aware of the quickly building arousal for suddenly his hands and mouth were all over the seeker, both of them groaning with need.

“Sir! Kup! Please...”

“Please what?” Kup re-positioned himself so that he was facing the seeker's array. But instead of attacking it he instead cocked his head to the side and slid his dark glossa up the inside of the closest thigh.

“Please.. please...”

“Do you need something, Starscream?” The tip of the glossa had found a sensitive spot inside hip joint, a spot all too close to the greater interface array for it not to be connected into the nerve network. “What do you want?”

“Sir... I...”

The words never came. The moment the old mech pressed a wanton kiss to the hot panel protecting his valve, Starscream cried out in overload, mouth hanging open, valve clenching against nothing, his keeper's fingers squeezing his thighs. And even as he was being overwhelmed by the wave of release he wondered how it was that the old mech had managed to overload him without even opening his panel. Had he grown that needy? Was he really that pathetic? His trinemates usually had to frag him for the better part of a cycle before he came. Megatron had not once brought him to completion without Starscream doing most of the work for him.

And when the charge depleted, Starscream let out a relieved vent. His cooling fans, having ramped up their efforts with a painful urgency, were now slowing to a low hum. Now and then he would twitch as some remnant of the experience rose and snapped off of him with a crackle of electricity.

Kup moved back to lie beside his slave, running a hand in slow circles over Starscream's canopy. And when light returned to Starscream's optics, Kup brought the hand up and cupped his ward's chin, turning the seeker's dark face to his and kissing him on the lips.

“What..? What did you do to me?” came the disbelieving question.

The ancient mech just grinned.

Starscream shut off his optics and allowed himself to go limp in Kup's arms.

Kup released his face and resumed petting the seeker's canopy, his hand occasionally straying to brush even lower.

Starscream was still puzzled, and perhaps even more frightened.

This was so unlike yesterday.

Yesterday...

Yesterday his keeper had been pushed to the limit by his taunts and rebellious attitude. Angered, Kup summoned a friend and they had hauled him off to the prison used for Decepticons decided to be incapable of being rehabilitated but whose war crimes weren't severe enough to warrant execution.

There Kup lashed him so hard with an energon whip that he could barely stand. Then his wings were taken from him. Next he was slapped around and passed through a number of hands, known and unknown Autobots pinching and striking and backhanding him amidst insults and jeers. Eventually he was returned to his chains and spread open between two of the room's supporting pillars. While every prisoner and every Autobot in the prison watched, Kup forced open Starscream's interface array and violated him first with the handle of the energon whip and then the muzzle of his pistol. His spike, forced out as well, was tied with a bow made from a scrap torn from a Decepticon flag. The Autobots teased him viciously about being Megatron's whore and then violated him again with the fingers of a severed hand. “Feel familiar? It should,” smirked Kup wickedly as the others raped him with the black thing. “Should feel very familiar as Megatron's whore.”

They made him clean the hand with his glossa, Starscream refusing to online his optics. Partly it was so he couldn't see so many others watching his humiliation. Partly it was because he didn't want to find that it really was Megatron's hand they were abusing his valve with. Perhaps it had actually been Megatron's. Though there was a better chance that it wasn't. There was nothing in particular or even identifying about the Decepticon leader's hands. And then Kup asked him if he'd had enough. Stupidly he'd glowered defiantly and asked them if they'd had enough of him.

Apparently they hadn't, and any Autobot was now allowed a go at his valve. A few of the prisoners suddenly asked to defect, saying that betraying their defeated cause would be well worth it to frag the Vosian prince. And so a few hastily recruited turncoats were given a turn with the prisoner as well. The worst had been Astrotrain, who happily shoved his length hard into the weeping valve, all the while tormenting his former commander with insults and insinuations about Starscream's time in Megatron's berth.

Through it all, Kup just sat there, watching creepily and smirking, sometimes even laughing a bit with a fellow Autobot. And then when it was all over, Kup had literally dragged him out to the street, hailed a ground-shuttle, and hauled him back across Iacon.

Starcream expected the worst as he was shoved into the elevator of the apartment building, but once inside, the old mech changed again. He held Starscream up to keep him from falling as the passenger compartment moved. In his habsuite, he got Starscream into the washrack and bathed him as gently as one would a sparkling, tenderly rinsing away the bled-out transfluid and the filth left from hours of horror. Kup then dried him and lay him down on his pallet where he sobbed and shivered himself to sleep. In the morning, Kup rose without so much as a smirk or a snide comment over the previous day, only telling Starscream that he wanted the apartment cleaned thoroughly and his evening fuel waiting for him when he came home from work.

No one had ever warned him about the old Autobot's schizophrenia.

“Starscream, I'm just going to get us a little something to drink,” Kup said quietly and rose from the berth. Shortly he returned, this time pressing a small cube of high-grade into his ward's hand.

“For me, sir?”

“Yes for you. Don't you like high-grade?”

As if Kup might sadistically change his mind, Starscream hurriedly broke the seal and downed the draught, humming as the potent fuel dropped into his tank.

The grey mech laughed. “Did you even taste that?” And then he broke the seal on his own cube and took a swig. “Here, take a sip of mine and make sure you taste it first before you swallow.

Starscream did as he was told, and he held it in his mouth long enough to enjoy the flavor. And yes, it was nice. Very nice. Sweet as was the Decepticon preference. Kup took back the cube and drank the rest.

The empty cubes were set aside and Kup tucked himself back into the berth. “Are you feeling warm now? I certainly am,” he said lightly. His hand again stroked at Starscream's back. “You still seem a bit chilled though. I should have Ratchet look at you. See if your thermo-regulation systems are working correctly.”

“Please sir. I'm fine.”

Kup wasn't about to take no for an answer. “I'll be the judge of that,” he said, pressing a hand to Starscream's chest, intent on the seeker lying on his back in the berth. Starscream was too undone emotionally to resist, and the high-grade was already taking effect. So he simply moved at Kup's guidance, allowing the old mech to position him in the center of the berth and then spread his legs apart. The panels over his array opened with an insistent nudge. The whimpering renewed when grey fingers trailed back and forth over the embarrassingly wet entrance of his valve and stroked up his painfully hard spike. The humiliating bow from yesterday was somehow still there, but now Kup untied it and tossed it away before renewing his attentions. And much to his shock, the ancient mech bent forward and pressed a kiss and then a sensuous lick to the tip of the spike. Was this really the same mech that had submitted him to so much agony so recently?

Starscream gasped as Kup took the silver length into his mouth, working it almost lovingly with his lips and glossa. And then his own mouth fell open as the ancient mech's long fingers dipped just inside his abused valve and massaged the mesh lining slowly. He moaned wantonly at the sensations. His calipers clenched in betrayal. Not even Thundercracker had pleasured him this way, not like this perverse old Autobot did. The fingers stroked and swirled as the glossa mimicked their movements.

“Think you can handle a bit more,” Kup asked with a wicked smile, starting to pump his digits slowly into the valve. And he continued pumping them in and out of the slick port until Starscream was writhing against the berth and whimpering desperately for release.

“Are you sure you want more?”Kup asked teasingly. “Didn't you get enough yesterday?” This was the first he'd mentioned of the previous torment and punishment.

“Sir, you have me so worked up,” the seeker panted. And then he slapped himself mentally. Had he really said that? Was he really talking like some slutty little pleasurebot?

Kup simply snorted amusedly. “Then I'd better do something about it then.”

Pulling his fingers free of Starscream's valve and kneeling between the seeker's legs now, he wrapped his wet hand about his own hard spike and began to stroke it, spreading Starscream’s own lubricant over his length. Gently he parted Starscream’s legs further before hitching him up at the hips so that the seeker rested on his shoulders and the soles of his feet. Grey hands curled beneath his aft and he adjusted himself so that the tip of his spike pressed against the gates of Starscream's twitching valve.

Starscream tried to focus on the ceiling panels in the dim room. This would be nothing. Yesterday he'd been assaulted repeatedly with both objects and spikes. And it wasn't like that was really anything new. Megatron had often enough sent him to the berths of some of his favored underlings or passed him around at parties. One wiry old Autobot shoving his wiry old spike up in his valve would be hardly even noticed.

And the wiry old Autobot did just that, sinking into Starscream's slick warmth with a low groan.

When Kup had first brought it out he had barely noticed the spike—the modest thing having been passed over once he'd determined it 'not a threat.' But now he found that it fit inside him snugly, expanding the lining of his valve just enough to send wonderful ripples of pleasure rushing through him. There was no forcing. No pain. No straining. This was how interfacing was supposed to be, wasn't it? Pleasant and comfortable?

Kup started to rock his hips, sliding his spike out of Starscream's valve, then pausing an astrosecond before pushing back in with a sharper thrust, eliciting a pant of surprise from the seeker. He repeated the motions a few more times and then he picked up his pace. Starscream arched his back in response to the intrusion, but he hated it. And he hated the way his frame was betraying him. To fight it Starscream continued to stare at the ceiling. He didn't want to think about how good this felt. About how right it felt.

There had once been a time when such an act would have been unthinkable. Starscream was a prince of Vos. Kup was a commoner, and a mere grounder at that. While he may have risen from nothing, thanks to his intelligence and his rumored pact with Mortilus, to become the Security Chief of Cybertron, he was so far below Starscream caste-wise. Back before the war Kup could have been executed for simply touching a prince inappropriately. A commoner interfacing with a noble was inconceivable.

Tightening his grip on Starscream's rear Kup thrust harder and faster into the trembling mech before him until Starscream was panting and whimpering. Overwhelmed once again, the seeker could do no more than simply arch there over the berth, his entire frame rocking with Kup’s eager thrusts. His valve grasped needily at the invading spike. His pantings became cries of pleasure which filled the room. The heat rose and the blankets about them fell away. Starscream's overload built up gradually until he found himself fighting a storm-surge of bliss, one that pounded against him, threatening to overwhelm him with both bliss and shame, the sensations being too much to control his frame against. Once again the ancient grey mech was again proving himself far beyond expectations in polarity—a master of agony and a master a pleasure. It hurt to imagine that someone could be responsible for both yesterday and the present moment.

Kup somehow knew that Starscream teetered on the edge of an overload and once more began talking to him gently. “Let go, Star...” he coaxed, slowing his thrusts but hilting himself deeply with each one. “Let it take you.”

“Never. Not again,” the seeker croaked back resistantly.

“Don't be stubborn Starscream. Let it. Just give in.”

“No! I won't let you have the satisfaction,” Starscream protested.

“That's 'I won't let you have the satisfaction, sir',” Kup smugly corrected him.

“I... sir...” was the only thing Starscream managed to stutter before overload crashed over him in cascading waves of pleasure. It took him hard, arching his back even further, the seeker bowing up until he balanced on the tips of his feet and the tops of his shoulders.

“Starscream!” Kup wailed as the charge's release pulled him along with it, triggering a mutual overload.

Starscream howled loudly when he felt a sudden rush of hot fluid filling his valve and the grey mech stiffening against him. Ancient hands gripped him so tightly he wondered if they would break from the strain.

“Starscream!” Kup wailed again, finishing with a few hard thrusts into the seeker. And then he collapsed with a blissful moan, dropping to the berth, taking his ward with him. And for a while they lay together like that, the remnants of charge erupting over their bodies in tiny arcs of electricity. Kup managed to get his arm and leg around Starscream, murmuring blissfully as his spike depressurized and retracted. “My Starscream,” he sighed, relaxing softly against the now wingless volitant. “My beautiful Starscream.”

The seeker felt sick. Hatred seethed at the edges of his field.

“Starscream... calm yourself,” the old mech ordered drowsily.

“I hate you,” he hissed through tears. “I hate myself.”

“Shhhh... forget your hatred for now. I know you feel good right now. Just relax and enjoy it.”

“I don't.”

“You do. Your frame doesn't lie.”

Unfortunately Kup was right. Starscream let out a sob and sagged against the berth's pad.

“There now. Much better,” the grey mech smiled, snuggling in closely. One of his hands drifted around to brush over Starscream's cooling interface array, all shut up tightly once again. “When you apologize for saying you hate me, I'll do your spike. But that can wait for tomorrow.”

Starscream opened his mouth to say something but the words would not come.

Words did for Kup however. “Recharge now, Starscream. I think we did very well tonight. And we've both had an eventful couple of days.”

Again the seeker opened his mouth, but then shut it and switched off his optics. And as much as he wanted to go on hating Kup, he found the emotion had softened. He'd hated Megatron. He'd hated Soundwave. He'd hated Shockwave. He'd hated Tarn. He'd hated all the others. But for some reason right now he hated them all more than his Autobot jailer slowing into recharge beside him.

“Things are different now,” said Kup softly, again as if reading his mind. “The war is over. It's time to move past our hate. Just enjoy the feelings of pleasure and go to sleep.”

“You... you...”

“I know, Starscream.”

“But...”

“Shhh,” Kup silenced him. “Tomorrow's another day, and yesterday will always be yesterday.” The Autobot again shuffled in against him and limber arms encircled Starscream once more.

Starscream gave up and allowed himself to completely relax in his keeper's arms. If the old Autobot had wanted him dead he would have killed him long ago. If he'd wanted the former SIC to suffer permanently he would have left him at the prison. If he'd wanted him only as a fragtoy he would have been chained to the berth the first day Kup had dragged him to his apartment. If he'd not trusted him, he'd not be falling asleep beside him right now.

Perhaps tomorrow would be better.

Perhaps Starscream would even apologize.

-o-o-o-o-o-  
-o-o-o-  
-o-

The End

-o-  
-o-o-o-  
-o-o-o-o-o-


End file.
